The Last Bounty, A Tale From The Star Wars Universe
by Opie Lives
Summary: Old bounty hunters don't retire. Battered and beaten down by a lifetime of battle, Dengar has nothing left except the next job.


Disclaimer: The normal no owning and no money making stuff apply.

 **The Last Bounty, A Tale From The Star Wars Universe**

He finished wrapping the turban around his head, taking a moment to check his features in the mirror of the rundown hotel. The heavy body armor he had worn for most of the forty years he had been a bounty hunter was pitted and scarred, a perfect match for the barely recognizable face looking back at him. The blue eyes were the only features that he still recognized from his youth, and they seemed paler with harsh lines that his wife would never…

He shook himself from that thought and checked his blaster before holstering it and picking up his trademark blaster rifle. He carefully checked over the rifle, it too was showing it's age but still functioned like new and he had used it so long that it was like another appendage to him. As he looked over the weapon his mind wandered back to how he had acquired it.

They had been happy, Leeza and he. Married for three amazing years and living over the small repair shop they ran together. He could still picture her tinkering with some object in the shop, her glorious golden hair tied in a ponytail and a smile on her sweet face…

No, don't think of her he thought as he set the rifle down. Instead he stared at himself in the mirror. His blue eyes hardened as he remembered the flames.

He had gone out that morning to look at a speeder on the other side of the little settlement they lived in, his mind barely registering the three men who passed him in their own speeder. Everything had gone well, it was a minor problem with speeder's power stabilizer and he was taking the part back to the shop to fix. He was nearly home when he saw the smoke and he pushed his own speeder to it's limits getting back.

The fire team had already arrived by the time he returned. Not seeing Leeza anywhere he tried rushing into the shop but was stopped by a group of neighbors who wouldn't let go no matter how much he begged or fought. He collapsed later when they brought the single body out, covered, on a stretcher. He didn't need to see it to know that it was her. His neighbors hovered around him, but otherwise left him to his grief and that is how he had learned what happened. One of his neighbors was being questioned by the constable and described seeing a speeder with three men, one a Rodian, stop at the shop before the fire.

His memory was keener back then and he immediately recalled seeing the speeder earlier. He pretended to cooperate, and stayed in the settlement until the funeral was over; but no one was surprised when he disappeared. Tracking the men down was much easier than he expected, even on a planet of five settlements and a spaceport. The Rodian was the first, he found him staggering from bar smelling like very cheap Corellian whiskey. He didn't even have to rough him up to badly to get the names of the other two. From there it was easy. He left the Rodian's body in an alley and left for a small smugglers base hidden in the canyon country that nobody bothered to go to.

The second one was a fellow Corellian whom he was lucky enough to find outside of the base. He was unable to take that one alive and received the first of the many battle scars he had collected over the years. He also collected his trusty rifle, the one that gave him that scar and had kept him in business all these years.

The third he caught up to just as he was preparing to leave the planet. That one recognized him and went for his pistol. But he was no quick draw and it was easy to shoot the rifle from the hip at that distance. Number three was talkative as he died and confessed why they burned the store.

No one bothered him as he left the smugglers base and he started his journey back to the settlement he had lived in. It turned out that a mining company wanted to build a spaceport on the site of the settlement and the constable had learned about it. The constable had hired the three men to scare the settlers into selling out so that he could buy up the land cheap. His shop had just been randomly selected.

The constable had been outside when he returned and immediately knew that it was over. He shot the constable from his speeder, not caring who saw it, and sped off. By the time he had reached the spaceport his name and description was out. Remembering the third man, who had worn a cloth wrapped around his head, he copied the look. Thanks to the identicard he stole from the second man he was able to get a ride on the first transport off planet. Since then he had kept that name and Dengar spent many years as a top name in his business.

Dengar checked the time, seeing it was nearing his appointment, he picked up his rifle and left the room. As he stepped out into a dirty back alley his thoughts drifted back again.

After six months on the run he thought he had outrun the killings. So he had returned to Corellia to visit his father. That meeting had gone badly, he could see the disappointment on his father's face, and he left early. Only to find three men outside waiting for him with guns drawn. The constable had a family that was unwilling to let things go and so Dengar was left facing a son and two brothers; who had the drop on him. Knowing that he couldn't raise his gun in time he did the only thing he could think of.

The trio didn't know how to act as he charged them and were late firing. Dengar felt two shots hit him as he shot the nearest one. He saw that one drop and then he was between the other two, using his rifle as a club he dropped both of them. The last image he had of that day was his father's gray eyes watching him in disbelief and horror as he ran off.

He had worked for a smuggler for awhile until an argument had left a crew mate dead. That had been witnessed by a bounty hunter who was putting a team together to go after a pirate captain. That expedition had been bloody but successful, and Dengar earned a reputation for being fearless and getting the job done. Since then he had become one of the best in the business; at least until Jabba was killed and the Empire fell. Jobs started disappearing as the so called New Republic started gaining traction and old timers like him died out. Now all he could find was small timers with easy jobs. But money was money and that was why he was on this backwards planet.

Prylan, as they were calling it, was a water world with the only land being a belt that stretched around it's equator. The belt was so narrow that the settlements that had sprung up were now lumped together as one single entity, also called Prylan. Due to the heat and bad storms that randomly popped up none of the buildings were very tall. Where he was now was near the original spaceport and was a dingy collection of generic buildings that were being deserted as people grew tired of the lawlessness of the area.

He walked across the street to the only modern looking building around, The Mutineer was your generic gangster run nightclub that he had been in a thousand times before. A single glare to the guards let him pass without a word and he was escorted to his next client.

Oluw Poba sat behind a large desk, decked out in a suit much finer than belonged in such a neighborhood. The Twi'lek was pale and unusually skinny for his species, with tattoos covering both his head tails.

"Dengar, what an honor to meet one of the legends," the Twi'lek says with a greasy smile. Dengar just nods and shakes the offered hand, taking in the other occupants of the room. He dismisses the Duros immediately as just a snitch, his red eyes were too soft to be a killer. The two Weequay behind Poba were just muscle, tough but not really dangerous. The Zabrak leaning against the far wall, on the other hand, just screamed danger. He appeared bored, but his eyes were constantly watching and his gun hand never ventured an inch from his holstered blaster. The other one in the room Dengar almost overlooked. The Devaronian was young, his horns barely jutting from his head, but his eyes held that same madness that young Boba's did. He enjoyed the killing.

"Thank you for coming. Originally I was going to have young Zesse here," Poba said pointing to the Devaronian, "do the job; but it calls for more finesse than he is currently capable of."

"Your deposit cleared, that's what got me here."

"Right," Poba continued, flustered at being interrupted. "I have a problem that needs taken care of. There's a couple that aren't willing to pay for our security and have openly defied my collectors. Then they refused my generous buyout offer to get them out of my territory. I need an example made of them..."

Dengar tuned him out after that, he'd heard the same thing a thousand times over the years. That was another thing he missed about working for Jabba, or even the Empire; they just told you what they needed and sent you on. These small timers always had to waste time working up to their point.

Instead of listening, he turned his attention to the Zabrak. Brusu, if his memory was still worth a credit. A former mercenary who went into the bodyguard business. A top man who apparently was left fighting for scraps after the fall of the Empire. The Zabrak, acknowledged Dengar's appraisal with a slight nod..

He focused on the Devaronian next, Zesse he was called. The kid had been glaring at Dengar since he walked in. He knew the type. The kid had killed a few locals and now fancied himself something special. And maybe he was, Dengar just didn't care enough to find out.

"So, we are in agreement?" Poba asked as he finished his monologue.

"We are," Dengar agreed.

"I can do this," Zesse hissed. "You don't need this old man."

"Hush Zesse," Poga told the Devaronian. "I don't need the entire sector of town burnt down. Mr. Dengar is the right man for this job."

"Yes, kid," Dengar smirked at Zesse, "this is a job for grownups."

"Why you!" Zesse hissed reaching for his blaster; only to feel the barrel of Dengar's rifle under his chin.

"Bad idea kid."

"Gentlemen, I'm not paying you to kill each other." Poba told the two, as he watched the confrontation, wheels turning.

"You're the boss," Dengar said while lowering his rifle.

"You'd be nothing without that rifle." Zesse said as he moved his hand away from his blaster.

"Too bad it's always with me then." Dengar said as he started for the doorway. "I'll be back when the job's done."

Dengar sat in the back of the water taxi as it sped along, skipping over the waves as it returned to his hotel. It had taken two days to find a decent lawyer on this planet. But he had his affairs in order, something he hadn't bothered with in many years; but something didn't sit right with this current assignment.

He found it odd that the Twi'lek would spend the money he was willing to on this job, especially since he had plenty of hired muscle of his own to use. No, something was definitely off with this job. And he was going to be prepared for any outcome, even if that outcome was a nephew that never knew Dengar existed finding himself with a surprise inheritance.

The water taxi dropped him off in the worn down neighborhood he started in and he began walking toward the target. He barely bothered to take in his surroundings, something he would have cursed himself for if he'd been paying attention, as he was so wrapped up in his thoughts.

Before he knew it he was standing in front of the target; and then he did curse himself for getting distracted like an amateur. He looked around, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Lucky amateur, he thought to himself. If someone had wanted to take him out they had missed a prime opportunity.

He centered back on the target and his breath in his throat. It really looked nothing like the repair shop he and Leeza owned. Their place was out in the open, where here everything was built on top of everything else. But standing there, it was like he had been sent back in time. He slowly walked to the door, more out of curiosity than any desire to fulfill his assignment.

The door opened automatically and he stepped inside. It was cool and damp, with a slight mildew smell. Around him were shelves and table of useful junk, like many of the trader shops he'd been in over the years; or small repair shops on backwater worlds for that matter.

"You lookin' to buy or sell, Mister?" A voice pulled him from the past that he had let overwhelm him. He looked up and froze at the small woman before him. She stood at one of the tables tinkering on something, her blond hair pulled back in a pony tail. Dengar could only stare at her, much like the shop she was nothing like his Leeza and simultaneously exactly alike. She stared back at him and he saw recognition and fear play across her gaze.

Dengar started to answer when a drop of water landed on battered nose.

"Sorry 'bout that, Mister," the woman said cautiously, "our dehumidifier system went out and we cant find a replacement."

"No problem Miss," Dengar replied. He was certain she recognized him and that confused him more. He had a reputation, but not one that should have made him known to a shopkeeper.

"Nice place you have here," he continued. "You run it by yourself?"

"No," she stammered," my husband and I run it. He's out at the moment but should be returnin' soon."

Dengar paled at those words. For the first time in years he remembered what his father had told him during their argument. Your past will catch up to you someday, Boy, his old man had said; and if Dengar was prone to laughter he would have started at that moment. Instead, with the first genuine smile to cross his face in years, he returned his attention to the shop.

"You two from here?" He asked as he pretended to look at pair of macrobinoculars.

"I am," she told him. "My husband used to work the freighters until he got stranded here."

"I guess he found a reason to stay," Dengar said and earned a slight smile.

"Is that an old SERTAC dehumidifying system?" He asked as he looked at the large metal box across the room.

"Yes," she said still eying him with distrust. "A 570P series."

"We had one of those when I was a kid. Mind if I take a look at it?" She nodded and he walked over to the box. He looked at the large pipes running from it then back at her, who he noticed now stood in line with the rifle cradled in his arms. "This purifies the water and adds it to your water supply if I remember right."

She nodded again and he lowered his rifle, setting it on the table next to him. He knelt in front of the SERTAC and opened a compartment. A little water ran out as he pulled out a small part the size of a thimble.

"Here's your problem," he said as stood up and walked over to a nearby sink. "The purification system has a ridiculously tiny filter that leads to the main filter that's not in the manual. SERTAC put it there so the system would stop working and you'd have to contact them for reapairs. Or buy an expensive service contract. Stupid really, considering how big the galaxy is."

"Ours would quit working every two or three years, so my old man figured out how to fix it." Dengar said as he walked back to the box. "Here's hoping I'm half as handy as he was."

He knelt again, replacing the part before he closed the compartment. Next he went to the control panel and adjusted it. The shop's lights dimmed for a few seconds and then the machine started to hum quietly.

"Well how about that. I guess a little of my old man rubbed off after all." Dengar said as he picked up his rifle.

"Thank you Mister," the woman said; surprised and a little overwhelmed by the way her day had turned out. "Do I owe you anything?"

"No Miss," he smiled at her before turning and walking for the exit. "It's been a long time since I've felt useful. It's a nice feeling."

"Give my regards to your husband" he said as he stepped through the doorway. The door slid shut behind him and for the second time that day his past made himself known.

The man was roughly the same height as him. His face was completely different then Dengar remembered; but those eyes, he'd never forget those vicious eyes.

"Did you enjoy your visit friend?" The man asked in a calm and steady voice,

"You must be the shopkeeper," Dengar replied. "Your wife said you would return soon. Nice place you have."

"Thank you, friend. Always happy to have new customers."

"Funny though, you remind me of an old acquaintance of mine. Rumor was, hew was being digested for a thousand years or so."

"Yet I'm standing right here. I must just have one of those faces, friend."

"That must be it. Or maybe I'm just at that age where everything reminds me of what used to be. Either way, it was nice meeting you."

"You as well friend. Will you be visiting our shop again?"

"No, Dengar said with a wistful smile," no I don't believe I'll be back. Good fortunes to you, friend."

Dengar continued on his way, barely hearing the "you as well" the man said. He walked with purpose now, but this time paying attention to his surroundings. That was how he noticed the Duros take off running as he left the shop.

Much to soon he was at the Mutineer and the bouncer waved him in. The two Weequay guards met him inside and escorted him to Poba's office, before taking their place behind their boss. The Zabrak Brusu was against the far wall as he was before and the Devaronian Zesse stood across from Brusu, nearly leaning on Poba's desk.

"Is the job complete?" Poba asked from behind his large desk, this time not bothering to rise and shake hands.

"You already know the answer to that," Dengar replied as he angled himself so his rifle was nonchalantly pointed toward the Zabrak. "Your snitch beat me here by a good ten minutes."

"Is there a reason you failed the assignment?"

"Yeah, I decided not to do it. Of course you don't owe me anything. The deposit will cover my expenses."

"I'm afraid it doesn't work that way," Poba said as he stood up; sharp teeth flashing in an angry snarl. "I gave you a job, and expect you to do it."

"I just don't think I'm going to kill them for you." Dengar told the Twi'lek as he saw Brusu's hand reaching for his blaster. Dengar pulled the trigger, the flash of his rifle catching everyone by surprise as it hit the Zabrak dead center in his chest. He was falling as Dengar lined up the Weequay that was next in line and pulled the trigger. His rifle blew apart as the Weequay fell, and he saw Zesse's blaster pointing at him.

The remaining Weequay stood in front of his boss as the Devaronian sneered at Dengar.

"Looks like I destroyed that rifle that's always with you." Zesse hissed as he centered his blaster on Dengar. "Should I kill you now or give you a chance?"

"It'd be a stupid move to give me a chance. Something a punk amateur would do." Dengar smiled at the younger man, who was close to losing his temper. "But I bet that's what you're going to do."

"Damn right, old man." Zesse told him as he holstered his blaster. "I'll make my name by taking you in a fair fight."

"More likely die trying," Dengar said, laughing. "But make your play, kid."

Zesse hand flashed for his blaster at the same time Dengar went for his. The Devaronian was clearly faster and the blaster bolt screamed forward, grazing the bounty hunter's left shoulder. Dengar was only a shade slower and pulled his trigger right as the blaster bolt hit him.

Zesse screamed and dropped his blaster, both hands clutching the burning hole in his stomach as he collapsed to the floor. Dengar turned and ducked as blaster fire came from the desk. The Weequay charged and Dengar fired again and again as the large alien reached him; collapsing at his feet.

A burning sensation struck him and Dengar stared, his disbelief changing to acceptance, at the hole in his stomach. Poba walked around the desk, his small holdout blaster pointed at Dengar as the bounty hunter fell to the floor.

"You were good, Dengar." The Twi'lek said with a smile. "I could have taken this world with you working for me. But know, you had to be..."

Poba was cut off as a blaster bolt struck him in the throat, and he fell, dead before he hit the floor.

"Should have made sure I was dead before running your mouth," Dengar muttered as he dropped his blaster. The room started growing darker as he looked at the bodies around him. He gave in finally and the pain in his stomach dimmed. His breathing slowed as he shut his eyes and he saw her; glorious blond hair tied in a pony tail, her sweet face smiling at the broken old man he had become.

And then he smiled as everything faded away.


End file.
